The Brothers
by Vindicated Skies
Summary: Three brothers realize they cannot remain neutral forever, not when together-and individually-they possess a power that could easily tip the balance into the favour of whomever they serve... 3 main characters are not OCs, I promise
1. Chapter 1

**Here's my newest story, sorry I ditched the other one, but the idea was old and was just starting to piss me off. Again, it doesn't belong to any of the already existing verses. Transformers is not mine, only the OCs are...blah, blah, blah...I think you get the picture.**

* * *

_**Chapter One: The Brothers**_

Cybertron was a planet torn apart by a seemingly endless war that had raged longer than the majority of the population had been alive. Its surface had once been covered in magnificent cities and breathtaking landscapes...but that had been before the schism...before the Cybertronians had split into the two distinct factions of Autobot and Decepticon under the leaderships of Optimus Prime and Megatron.

Now, few of the marvellous cities remained and the landscapes had been viciously torn apart and riddled with unnatural craters. The planet had become merely a tattered shadow of what it had once been before two opposing ideals had collided.

Yet, there still existed places where the former beauty of Cybertron seemed to have been carefully preserved; and these small, untouched pockets that gave the sense of existing outside the war itself quickly became the homes of those who wanted nothing to do with it.

But the existence of these sanctuaries was often brief; their sense of neutrality and removal shattered whenever Megatron found it convenient to expand his territory...

Or when they hid something—or someone—he was looking for.

* * *

"...are you certain?" Blue optics narrowed, focusing on nothing in particular as their owner listened to the report being delivered by his best intelligence officer. Red and blue armour gleamed under the scrutiny of nearly a dozen lights as he shifted, turning to face the screen displaying the video-link.

The yellow and black mech presented there nodded in the affirmative.

"Yes, sir." Bumblebee replied.

Optimus Prime sighed deeply and glanced over the top of the monitor as the door to the currently deserted Meeting Room slid open, and the familiar form of his second-in-command, Jetfire, walked through.

The Deputy Commander paused at the other end of the table, waiting to be acknowledged. Optimus lifted a hand and quickly waved him forward; soon, Jetfire stood at his commander's side, looking down at the screen that still contained the face of their comrade.

"You called me for something, sir?" Jetfire inquired, looking between the mech that sat before him and the one that was reporting from only Primus-knew where.

"Bumblebee," Optimus began, his tone grave, "please repeat your findings to Jetfire."

Jetfire felt a sense of dread rise in him. It wasn't often the Prime felt that his second-in-command needed to hear critical information from the source itself...when he did, it normally meant Megatron was about to make another move; one that might result in the war's tide being tipped into his favour utterly and irrevocably.

Bumblebee decided to keep the report straight and simple; just the way the Deputy Commander liked it. "Megatron is going after the Brothers."

There was a moment in which the implications of that simple statement were allowed to sink deep into Jetfire's processor.

"Oh frag."

* * *

Starscream still remembered the day he had defected from the Decepticons, giving up his position as second-in-command to resign himself to a lowlier rank among the Autobots as a Lieutenant in the Seeker Squadron directly under Jetfire's command.

It had been the day that the vindictive General of the Decepticons had double-crossed him and sent him to die. He remembered the order he and a select few fellow Seekers had been given to defend and hold the Sytec Space Port; to fight until reinforcements arrived—reinforcements that didn't exist.

He should've known something was wrong. The Sytec Space Port had been abandoned and in a state of decay for time immemorial; what tactical advantage could it possibly offer? What did it matter whether or not it, and the surrounding, resource deprived region, fell into Autobot hands?

At the time though, Starscream had been dedicated to the Decepticon cause, and to Megatron. So he and his most loyal Seekers (curious they were the ones Megatron had handpicked) had fought unwaveringly...but they had lost more and more ground as the battle went on until they were pushed back to the very heart of the port and surrounded by the whole of the Autobot forces. It was hundreds against the five of them.

And it was then Megatron revealed his treachery when he remotely detonated the bomb he had planted in the Port's recently replenished energon stores. The resulting explosion had engulfed the entire port and everyone in it.

In a single swoop, Megatron had destroyed an entire battalion of hardened Autobot soldiers and what he had perceived as a threat to his supremacy over the Decepticons. Not a single Autobot remained standing, and Starscream's four most trusted comrades had also perished. They were the mechs—and the single femme—Starscream had come closest to claiming as friends.

To this day, Starscream did not understand, or remember, how he survived. He could only recall the seething rage that consumed him in the aftermath and the confrontation with Megatron that had followed when he arrived to observe his handiwork. Had Starscream not been wise enough to flee, understanding he would not survive a battle in his broken condition; he probably would've been finished off and disposed of.

He remembered that day clearer than any other moment in his life simply because it was the one moment he could not forget...he could not ignore the burning in his Spark that demanded vengeance.

The sound of footsteps approaching drew the ex-Decepticon from his reverie as he looked up in the direction of the hangar doors to find Jetfire walking purposefully towards him.

Jetfire couldn't help but notice the way Starscream stood apart from the other Autobot Seekers every time he saw the mech. He found himself wondering if Megatron's former SIC did it purposefully or through unconscious thought. Maybe he had just always been separate from his comrades, even as a Decepticon. Unless he asked the Seeker upfront, he doubted he would ever know.

Jetfire came to a stop just a few mechanometers short of Starscream, holding eye-contact with him.

Starscream simply nodded in acknowledgement of his presence.

When they had first met, the lack of military protocol for addressing a superior had been one of Jetfire's petpeeves about him; of course, he hadn't exactly trusted him then and assumed it was a sign of treachery looming on the horizon...but after learning of the manner in which Starscream had been double-crossed (and a great deal of fighting alongside him,) he found himself unable to hold it against him; even if he _had_ been built a 'Con. In Jetfire's opinion, Starscream's unwillingness to submit completely to authority had likely been born from Megatron's betrayal.

"You ready for departure?" Jetfire inquired as he pushed his contemplations about the ex-Decepticon out of his mind.

"Yeah." Starscream grunted in response and glanced out over the hangar, at the many other Autobot Seeker's scattered about. "How many of us are coming?"

"Just you and me." Jetfire replied, striding towards the launch zone. Starscream frowned to himself as he followed after.

"Why just the two of us?" he demanded.

"Because the two of us have a better chance than an entire battalion marching to confront the Decepticons," the SIC pointed out, "It's a simple snatch-and-go operation."

"And what, pray tell," Starscream began irritably, "are we 'snatching'?"

Jetfire cast a sideways glance at the former 'Con, though it was impossible to tell due to the nature of the red visor cast over his optics—if he _had_ optics under there.

"The Brothers."

* * *

The stars sparkled above Cybertron as they always did, emotionless viewers staring down in curiosity at the sight of lesser beings tearing themselves apart. But something was different this time; Hot Shot felt it in his Spark.

Images flashed through his processor.

_...a burning valley, mechs scrambling to escape...the menacing figure of a Decepticon looming over him, reaching out as voices cried out for him to run, to escape..._

The stars hung suspended in a state of anticipation as though watching, not the land itself, but him; waiting to see how he might react to the horrors that taunted him just beyond the edges of his waking thoughts.

_...two mechs flying over, a red emblem—a face—ablaze as it stared down upon the fire...a hand reaching down, beckoning for him to trust and take hold..._

"Get out." He muttered to himself, willing the images to pass. They wouldn't.

_A voice, calling. Screaming...pain...so much pain...they should've taken the hand...they should've carried that mark..._

"Hot Shot!"

He snapped out of his daze, silently thanking Primus for sending him a brief respite from the tormenting images he had yet to make sense of. Hot Shot looked up and in the direction from which the sound of his name had originated. Two mechs walked towards him; one obviously older and possessing magenta armour covered in yellow and orange flames. His face had a constantly calculating expression to it as he narrowed his optics in concern.

The other mech was a mere youngling, bursting with an uncontainable energy as he waved frantically to get his attention...but then stopped, frowning at the way Hot Shot held himself; shoulders drooping and his optics trying desperately to focus on them, and them alone.

"Hey," he greeted unenthusiastically, trying to muster at least a small smile for the younger one's sake. It appeared briefly as a mere twitch at the corners of his mouthplates.

Hot Rod stared down in concern at his younger brother before taking a seat alongside him. Hot Spot, the youngest of the three brothers, took a seat on his other side.

"More visions?" Hot Rod asked, staring up at the vastness of Cybertron's eternal night sky.

Hot Shot didn't reply, letting his answer manifest in the form of silence.

"Any luck figuring out what they mean?"

Hot Shot hesitated, wondering if he should voice his contemplations. The hesitation passed within moments, "I think the Decepticons are coming."

Hot Spot scoffed incredulously as he flopped onto his back, "Again?" he groaned, a whining edge to his tone. "Do they even know what 'no' means? How many times do we have to refuse their stupid offer before they get the picture and _leave us alone_?"

Closing his optics, Hot Shot struggled through the storm of images that assaulted him once more.

_The valley was burning...a Decepticon loomed over him...voices screaming for him to escape..._

"They don't intend to give us a choice this time." Hot Shot told them quietly. There was a moment of silence as he allowed that statement to sink in.

"Any idea when they'll be coming?" Hot Rod inquired, deep in thought. Hot Shot was about to shake his head when he looked up at the stars and felt that sense of apprehension return to him, taking hold deep within his Spark.

"Now," he replied, feeling a sense of utter certainty, "they're already on their way."

* * *

Megatron looked down at the small, out of the way settlement nestled deep within the valley's bowels. There? That was where those blasted Neutrals had been hiding all this time? He had to admire the cleverness of their selected location; if one of his Seekers hadn't flown over the valley and looked down using their optics instead of their sensors, the place would've remained hidden...

And the Brothers with it.

He had long since grown tired of this constant game of hide-and-seek. The time of allowing them to join him willingly had passed; their neutrality would end here, whether they wished it or not.

Megatron gestured his second-in-command, Soundwave, towards him.

"Send out Laserbeak and Ravage," he commanded, "have them locate the Brothers and report back with their findings."

"Yes, Lord Megatron." Soundwave replied, monotone, as the centre compartment of his torso flipped open and two minicons erupted from the opening. The first took flight, disappearing quickly into the sky, and the second scrambled down the cliff-face with a feral snarl.

Megatron smirked arrogantly.

It was only a matter of time before the Brothers would be among his ranks.

* * *

**Please don't kill me! But do review! I might not continue this one if there isn't a lot of feedback...**

**For those of you who are wondering, Starscream's already an Autobot because it's important to the storyline later. I might make a side story about Megatron's double-cross later, but not right now.**

**PLEASE, I BEG YOU, R&R!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Geez, this story already has more favourites and alerts then my first one ever did! I must actually be doing something right for a change...**

**Pardon the shortness of this chapter, but I realized I was starting to rush through it and decided it would be better to make this and the primary fight scene two different chapters. Hope you enjoy!**

_**Chapter Two: Into Waiting Hands**_

Starscream crouched on the rim of the valley, staring down at the crude structures created by the Neutrals who had settled this region of Cybertron that still existed relatively untouched by the War. Beyond the small town, there existed endless fields of jagged stone.

"This is the place?" he asked of his commander.

Jetfire was crouched alongside him, focusing on the settlement as well as he compared its location with the one indicated by the nav point on his map.

"Yeah, this is it." He replied, his gaze flicking up to the opposite end of the valley where, for a brief moment, he had thought he saw the faint reflection of starlight on silver metal. Unease tugged at him, a sense of urgency screaming at him to hurry. He glanced over to the ex-Decepticon at his side to find him scrutinizing the same place he had just looked away from.

"Did you see that?" Starscream asked.

"You mean the flash?" Jetfire clarified. He nodded. The Deputy Commander sighed, "Frag; Megs' already here."

"So much for a _simple_ snatch-and-go." Starscream remarked humourlessly.

"Yeah," Jetfire agreed, rubbing his fore-helm as he simultaneously wished he hadn't come out of recharge that orbital cycle. "Nothing's ever that easy, is it?"

* * *

The light from Cybertron's two moons washed over the field of jagged rocks, which protruded from the Valley floor like claws menacingly reaching upwards as though to pluck the unsuspecting stars from the sky. Some stood at twice the size of the average Transformer; others barely breached the height of a minicon...but all of them cast menacing shadows that seemed to watch every move made by the Brothers as they navigated its precarious terrain.

Hot Spot stumbled over the treacherous footing; a steadying hand latched onto his shoulder and barely kept him from a painful face-plant.

"You okay?" Hot Shot asked, glancing up ahead briefly to see Hot Rod cautiously surveying the land around them as he continued to take point.

"Yep," Hot Spot replied and looked up to find his older brother's expression had grown distant; as though his body was there but his mind was not.

"Hot Rod?" he called out uncertainly across the stones. Oh Primus, how Hot Shot's visions seemed to strike at the worst possible times.

Hot Rod looked over his shoulder at the sound of his name, an edge of concern creeping into his expression as he recognized the situation even from that distance. He hurried to scramble back to them and, just as he came within a few mechanometers of their position, Hot Shot snapped out of his daze.

"Frag, you got over here fast." He muttered, glancing worriedly at the valley rims far above them as well as the unreachable sky.

"What did you see?" Hot Rod demanded, anxiety eating away at him.

"Someone's looking down at us." Hot Shot replied, "We need to hurry."

* * *

Laserbeak circled overhead, optics magnifying the image of his targets far below as the three brothers picked their way across the rocky fields toward the Nox Pass; which would curve upwards and lead them onto the Plains of Vyra Nox where they would be able to transform into their land based alt-modes and escape.

The minicon banked right, calling out to warn his master of his approach while simultaneously conveying the results of his mission.

Laserbeak was a frighteningly cunning creature, but his emotional programming was hardly even basic...hence, he felt nothing when he deduced the Brothers would never make it to the Pass.

* * *

Megatron watched in eager anticipation as Laserbeak flew into sight once more, perching on Soundwave's shoulder and squawking briefly in affection for his master.

"Well?" the Decepticon General demanded impatiently.

"The Brothers have been located." The second-in-command replied immediately, "They are three-hundred-and-fifty hics from the Nox Pass."

Megatron was silent a moment as he formulated a plan of attack that would allow them to capture the Brothers before they could make use of their unique gifts. It was dangerous enough trying to circumvent the powers of the youngest and oldest brothers (Hot Rod and Hot Spot, weren't they?) but was even more-so considering the ability of the middle brother was as of yet unknown...if he even had one at all.

The Decepticon General forced his thoughts to focus on his battle plan, rather than idly wonder what undiscovered power Hot Shot might yet possess. There would always be time for Shockwave to study him and compile a decent report to put his curiosity to rest _after_ they'd been captured.

But first things first...he had to keep them from putting up that Pit-damned shield.

* * *

"Any idea where they might be?" Starscream inquired as he and Jetfire flew high over the Valley in their alt-modes, every sensor aimed downwards into its depths, trying to force the shadows of each nook and cranny to reveal their secrets.

Jetfire sighed in irritation, "This has to be the billionth time you've asked me that."

"And this has to be the billionth time you haven't answered." The former 'Con retorted sharply.

"_No_, Starscream, I _don't_ have any idea where they might be. In case you forgot, this valley's mineral deposits hide energy signatures, so we'll only know where they are when our sensors detect something down there besides Primus-slagging _rocks_." Jetfire reminded him testily; no sooner had the words left his vocalizer than a sensor alert drew his attention to what it intelligently identified as three masses of moving metal.

Starscream's sensors had detected them as well, and the Seeker muttered darkly, "It's about _fragging_ time..."

* * *

Hot Shot froze, stiffening as another vision slammed into his thoughts like a ballistic missile.

_Feral optics peering out as three figures stumbled past...silent footfalls receding; silent calls to his master..._

"...Shot...Hot Sh..."

Someone was shaking him, simultaneously calling his name over and over. He shook his head, trying to break free from the last tendrils of the vision. He found himself staring into Hot Rod's concerned, blue optics.

"Frag," the oldest cursed, "we lost you for a klik there. What was it this time?"

Hot Shot looked around quickly, trying to locate a target that was likely no longer there. "Someone's sent out some kind of confirmation signal," Hot Shot replied hesitantly, wondering if he should voice his suspicions aloud.

"What is it?" Hot Spot asked tentatively, seeing the worry and fear on his brother's face.

Hot Shot sighed and looked out in the general direction of the Nox Pass.

"We're walking into a trap."

* * *

"Lord Megatron," Soundwave called, "Ravage reports that the Brothers are in position."

Megatron nodded approvingly as he stared absently out over the valley, "Good, begin the attack."

* * *

The three brothers stood in silence, uncertain of their next move. Hot Spot shifted his weight nervously as he glanced between the grim faces of his two elder brothers.

Unable to take the silence, he spoke aloud the thoughts resting on all of their minds, "So what do we do now? The Nox Pass is the only way for land-based Transformers like us to get out of here."

Hot Rod shook his head, "I don't know, Spot." He glanced over to Hot Shot, a hopeful glint in his optics indicating he wouldn't mind too terribly much if his brother suddenly wandered off into vision-land again.

Hot Shot scowled at him, "Frag, Hot Rod, you _know_ I can't control it." He reminded him, frustration evident in his tone. Hot Rod took no offence as the younger bot hung his head, knowing the frustration was aimed internally. It had always bothered Hot Shot that his visions seemed to fail him whenever he actually _needed_ them.

A gentle hand rested on Hot Shot's shoulder, drawing the younger mech's gaze upward and into his brother's own.

"Don't worry about it, we'll get out of this, we always do." Hot Rod assured him. He hesitated then, wondering if he should tell them his suspicions that this was the end of the line unless...

_...a hand reaching down, beckoning to trust and take hold..._

Hot Shot nearly voiced his thoughts that perhaps it was time they stopped running, that they picked a side before Megatron could pick it for them...

But he never got the chance.

The world exploded around them.

* * *

**Okay, there's chapter two, chapter three may be a while because I'm terrible at fight scenes and will probably rewrite it about a thousand times until I'm satisfied with it. R&R pretty please with a cherry on top?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's Chapter Three. I'm not entirely sure I'm happy with this chapter, so I might rewrite it later. This Story might turn out to be Six chapters instead of five at the rate I'm going. Sorry this one took so long to get out there; I was going to make it longer, but I left you guys on such a cliff-hanger that I thought I should split it in two instead.**

_**Chapter Three: The Trap**_

Pain coursed throughout his systems as yellow-level alerts plagued his central processor, flooding it with more information about his damaged state than he cared to know. Hot Rod dismissed the alerts quickly, hardly paying them heed as he tried to pick himself up off the ground. His joints groaned in protest as he staggered clumsily to his feet...but at least he could walk.

Hot Rod shuttered his overloaded optics several times as he tried to reboot them. Slowly, but surely, the fuzzy double-image being relayed by them stuttered into focus...

Just in time to find himself on the business end of Soundwave's blaster.

* * *

Hot Spot groaned painfully as he rolled over onto his back, momentarily wondering what in the name of Primus had hit him. Damage reports rushed chaotically through his processor, each demanding dominance over the others. Hot Spot dismissed them as nothing requiring immediate attention and slowly got to his feet before looking up and around, trying to locate his brothers. Smoke curled upwards from the charred ground and several stone protrusions now lay on their sides; but his brothers were nowhere to be seen. How was that possible?

_[Bros?] _He called silently over their three-way Spark bond, praying desperately to Primus they were in a condition to respond.

_[I'm here Spot,] _Hot Rod replied, _[Unfortunately, so is Soundwave. What's your situation?]_

_[Injured, but I'll live.] _Hot Spot glanced out over the vast terrain, trying to find his brother's general location. He narrowed his optics as the bond drew his gaze off to his left and, while he could see no one, he knew his brother's Spark lay that way. _[I'll be there in a klik.]_

_[No!] _The strength of Hot Rod's protest caused him to stagger briefly, _[Use your head, Spot! Hot Shot said we were walking into a trap, remember? There's no way that explosion could've split us up like this on its own, they must've used some kind of warp technology to separate us over a relatively short distance. Find Hot Shot and get out of here. I'll be fine.]_

Hot Spot shook his head vigorously, even though he knew his brother couldn't see the gesture; _[You can't expect us to just leave you!]_

_[Yes, I can. Now go!]_

Hot Spot reluctantly broke off the connection and forced himself to look away from the direction of Hot Rod's Spark lest he be tempted to go after him anyways. _[Hot Shot, are you there?]_

There was no response.

Panic clogged his thought processes momentarily as he feared for the worse, but then he felt the pull of Hot Shot's Spark, faint, but there none the less. He pushed his previously pessimistic thoughts aside as he reached out for it and tried again.

_[Hot Shot?]_

He felt his brother's Spark pulse with the faintest trace of recognition; but he didn't respond.

_Great, _Hot Spot thought, walking a little ways in the direction from which he felt the tug of his Hot Shot's Spark, _He's either unconscious or stasis-locked..._Hot Spot paused to consider the severity of their situation should Hot Shot prove to be the latter. _Oh Primus; let him be unconscious. If he's in stasis lock—_

The thought was abruptly cut off as something slammed into his shoulder with the force of a wrecking ball, spinning him completely around with the momentum as agony exploded through his sensor nodes and countless systems screamed obscenities at his processing core. Dazed with the pain, Hot Spot hardly even realized he had fallen to his knees, with his left arm hanging useless at his side, until a shadow cast itself over him, blocking out the meagre light of the stars and twin moons.

He looked up and found himself staring into the smug face of the Decepticon Aerial Commander.

Thrust.

* * *

Hot Rod's Spark lurched as he registered the cry of pain that echoed over their bond. On the verge of panic, he reached out for his youngest brother's Spark.

_[Spot? Hot Spot, are you all right?]_

For a moment, there was no reply as he continued to stare down the Decepticon that stood a mere arms length from him, gun pointed at his chassis and ready to blow him apart if he so much as twitched. After another agonizing second, somehow stretched by unseen hands into an eternity, Hot Spot's faint reply resonated in his Spark Chamber.

_[I'm all right.] _He replied, _[Thrust nailed me from behind; that slagging coward. And you do realize Hot Shot's either unconscious or in stasis lock, right?]_

_[Yeah, I know.] _Hot Rod replied, while absently brushing his consciousness against Hot Shot's unresponsive Spark. _[Do you think you can fight?]_

There was a pause during which he felt a faint twinge in his little brother's Spark.

_[Yeah, I—]_

_[Don't lie to me, Spot.]_

Another pause, _[I can fight,] _Hot Spot went on, _[but whether or not I can fight and _win_ is another story...my left arm is disabled.]_

Something akin to rage burned in Hot Rod's Spark and the neutral expression he had fixed on Soundwave during the entire exchange shifted into a malicious glare. His little brother needed him right now, and Primus only knew what kind of trouble Hot Shot was in.

Soundwave cocked his head curiously at the sudden change and the linkage in his limbs tensed; he fingered the trigger of his blaster uneasily. "Move and I will fire." He warned the Neutral, but a nagging feeling in the back of his processor suggested the mech had not even heard him.

_[I'm on my way, Spot, hang tight.]_ Hot Rod reassured his brother; he felt Hot Spot's confusion flood over the link.

_[But what about Soundwave?]_

_[Forget about Soundwave,] _Hot Rod replied, his hands slowly curling into tightly clenched fists, _[I'm taking the fragger down.]_

And with that he lunged, and the sound of a single gunshot echoed over the cold stone field.

* * *

Thrust whipped his head around to gaze out over the jagged stones as the echoes of the gunshot began to fade from around them.

"Soundwave, what's your situation?" He called out over the comlink. When no reply was forthcoming, he barked out; "Soundwave, respond!"

The screeching of metal being dragged across stone drew his attention back to his quarry...but by the time Thrust realized his critical mistake, it was too late.

A burning pain exploded across his torso and he stumbled back, screaming as his chest plate began to melt and the intense heat scorched the sensitive circuitry beneath. The coolant in his body was redirected to the area in an attempt to bring the heated metal back to a safer temperature.

Hot Spot slowly rose to his feet, his right hand engulfed in flames as he fixed the Decepticon in a murderous glare Thrust might've once thought impossible to have come from a child. Hot Spot clenched his fist, extinguishing the fire, and Thrust tensed as he remembered one particular point from the debriefing about Hot Spot's ability to control fire; and coax it forth from even the smallest spark. An expression of horror plastered firmly on his faceplate, Thrust glanced down at his mangled chest plate, his terror growing as he bore witness to the sparking circuitry that had been exposed.

Hot Spot felt a twinge of pity as Thrust looked up at him with widened, frightful optics, clearly realizing what was going to happen next. His glare melted away and he looked at the Decepticon apologetically before saying two simple words:

"I'm sorry."

With a snap of his fingers, the sparks ignited and Thrust's chassis exploded in a torrent of flame.

* * *

Soundwave had known before he was even finished depressing the trigger that the shot would never reach its target.

Hot Rod smacked the gun wide, causing the blast to tear through the air on his right side and topple one of the abundant stone pillars behind him. Before the 'Con could react, Hot Rod kneed him in the midsection, doubling him over, where his fist proceeded to meet the SIC's face.

He felt and heard the satisfying crunch of metal plating moments before Soundwave was sent soaring, only to crash into yet another column and crumple to the ground.

To Soundwave's credit, he was on his feet and moving before he had even fully recovered from the jarring triple-impact. He withdrew a pair of twin short swords from hidden compartments in his legs and struck out at the Neutral with a savage fury Hot Rod had not thought him capable of.

It wasn't long before he found himself on the defensive, dodging swipes and stabs while trying to maintain his footing on the precarious, uneven stones.

_He's faster than I anticipated,_ Hot Rod thought in frustration as he found himself unable to put enough distance between them long enough for him to bring out his own close-range weapons. _If this keeps up, it's only a matter of time before I make a mistake_.

That particular thought was punctuated when he dodged right to avoid the downward arc of Soundwave's right sword, only to hurriedly skitter backwards as the 'Con stabbed at him with his left-hand weapon; he knew he was in trouble the klik he made the sudden move as he felt the momentum send his own feet out from under him.

Hot Rod skidded to a halt a few mechanometers from Soundwave's position, and was just beginning to pick himself up when he found the tip of a black sword resting neatly at his neck.

"I advise you not to move." Soundwave informed him, his voice its usual monotone; but his optics betrayed the cold fury that he had formerly displayed with the vicious cuts and twists of his two relatively unremarkable swords.

Hot Rod glared up in utter defiance, disbelieving that he was in an even worse position than he had been formerly.

* * *

Hot Spot's expression became sombre as he looked down at the deceased form of Thrust, his entire torso rent into smoking shrapnel. A sense of unease crept into his Spark as he contemplated the fact he had killed a Transformer nearly a thousand times more battle-hardened than he was, even with one disabled arm. It was only when he revisited the last half of that thought that he realized something was terribly wrong with this scenario. Hot Shot's words echoed in his processor.

"_We're walking into a trap."_

Suddenly suspicious, Hot Spot carefully approached the Decepticon's prone form and knelt down beside it. With a tentative hand, he reached out and turned the body over, nearly purging when several internal components, charred beyond recognition, were left behind on the stones.

Darkened optics stared up at him in a rather accusing manner, and he tried to push aside the way it unnerved him. He looked into Thrust's Spark chamber, already knowing it was impossible for his Spark to still be ignited.

What he found there, however, left him dumbfounded.

Instead of staring down into an empty Spark chamber, Hot Spot found a round device surrounded by a flickering force field acting as the body's nucleus. Several red lines pulsed rhythmically along its surface.

"What the...?" he wondered aloud, only to be cut off as the pulsing quickened and became accompanied by the whine of a charging weapon.

"Frag."

The device exploded in a blinding flash of light and Hot Spot collapsed sideways to the ground, rendered unconscious by the electric shock sent coursing through his body.

The real Thrust emerged a mere moment later, seemingly out of thin air, standing over the now defenceless Neutral.

He chuckled maniacally at the sight of his handiwork. "Children are _so_ naive..."

* * *

Hot Rod felt the jolt in his Spark when Hot Spot was knocked unconscious, and couldn't remember the last time he had been so filled with burning hatred for whomever was responsible.

He didn't stop to think, he simply acted.

Hot Rod swung his legs around, knocking Soundwave's own feet out from under him while simultaneously bringing himself up on his knees in the same motion.

A yellow sphere of energon erupted into existence in his hand as he threw himself at the Decepticon without mercy, preparing to drive it straight into Soundwave's Spark.

He never got the chance.

Pain exploded throughout every sensor node in his body and his processor threatened to crash beneath the sheer number of extensive damage reports it was receiving.

_No!_ He silently screamed at his own body as he felt the energon coils in his right arm shatter and he let out a cry of utter agony as he toppled to the side.

Unaffected by Hot Rod's suddenly pained condition, Soundwave picked himself up off the ground and eyed the Neutral like he was a curiosity that had suddenly wandered under a microscope.

"It would seem Shockwave's theory was correct." The SIC stated as he proceeded to seat himself on a boulder. "Your body may be able to absorb great quantities of energon, but it can't readily absorb raw energon without being damaged in the process. I wonder if you even realized that the bomb we used to separate the three of you was powered purely by unrefined energon?"

Hot Rod merely responded by shooting the Decepticon a malicious glare clearly stating that, were it within his power to do so, he would see to it that the SIC suffered a slow death even more painful than what he was currently enduring.

Soundwave held the glare, not the least bit unnerved and looking quite bored as he went on, "And it would seem he was also correct that attempting to manipulate said energon on your part would result in doing further harm to yourself."

If Soundwave was going to say anything more, it was cut off by the buzzing of his comlink as Thrust's voice flared to life.

"Soundwave, I have one of the brothers in my custody, what's your situation?"

Soundwave glanced down at Hot Rod, observing his broken condition one last time.

"The target is neutralized."

* * *

**Yay, Chapter Three! Tell me what you think! Pretty please? Like I said, I might rewrite this one if people didn't think it was that good.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's Chapter Four! Enjoy!**

_**Chapter Four: The Burning Valley**_

Jetfire had known things had gone horribly wrong for the Brothers the nano-klik the bomb had detonated, igniting the ground below with a violent yellow light. Of course, he hadn't been prepared for the fact that, according to his sensors, two of the "moving masses of metal" were no longer present.

The two Seekers hovered far above the scene, out of reach of any anti-air-craft weapons the Decepticons might have stationed on the Valley rim.

"Okay...what the _Pit_ just happened?" Jetfire asked incredulously.

Starscream didn't reply as he carefully recalibrated his sensors to detect a specific type of radiation. He let out a stream of Cybertronian curses as they reported, much to his fury, that it was indeed present.

"That slagging, pit-spawned fragger!"

The SIC glanced sharply over at his companion, surprised by the sudden flurry of expletives that he normally reserved for Megatron...

Wait...

Jetfire sighed and his gaze briefly flicked up to the stars as though searching out Primus so he might pray for patience. "All right, what did Megs do this time?" he demanded of the former 'Con a moment later.

"He used a Transwarp Detonator!" Starscream exclaimed. When Jetfire gave him a rather blank look indicating he had no idea what he was talking about, he hurriedly went on to explain; "A Transwarp Detonator tags those within the vicinity of the bomb and warps them to a preset location once the bomb actually detonates, so they only receive the initial impact rather than the brunt of the explosion. Megatron often used this tactic to capture Autobot soldiers while leaving their comrades to believe they'd been blown to bits or incinerated by the blas. It can also warp time slightly and deposit the target in the same spot, only after the explosion." Starscream paused thoughtfully for a moment as he continued to scan the residual types of radiation, "It looks like he used a rather weak bomb, but, for whatever insane reason, it was powered purely by raw energon."

"Oh, that's just slagging wonderful." Jetfire sighed once more and then shook his head to clear any pessimistic thoughts that were intending to creep up on him. A small flash of white light on the ground far beneath them soon indicated the setting off of a second, albeit non-lethal, bomb.

"All right, get ready Screamer," Jetfire informed his companion as he transformed into his jet alt-mode (Starscream scowled at the unflattering nick-name), "We're going in."

* * *

Thrust knelt down alongside the unconscious Hot Spot; securing his wrists with a pair of stasis cuffs should he prove to online unexpectedly.

"You stupid Neutrals," he was gloating to the silent form, "Did you really think you'd be able to fight off Megatron's elite soldiers?" he sighed in a phony gesture of exasperation as he straightened, "Ah, children these days, they think they can take on anything." He looked down pointedly, narrowing his optics as he gave a swift kick to Hot Spot's side. "Ha! You should leave it to the big leagues!"

"You mean _us_?"

Thrust turned around just in time for Jetfire to plough right through him, knocking him flat on his aft. The SIC transformed mid-flight, taking aim with his blaster...but he didn't fire.

"You'll pay for that!" Thrust howled as he pulled himself to his feet; only to pause as someone tapped lightly on his shoulder. Confounded, he turned around, only to have his Spark drop somewhere in the vicinity of Cybertron's core as he came face to face with a very pissed off Starscream...

...and soon became reacquainted with his fist.

The Decepticon found himself on his aft for the second time in the span of a klik. Partly stunned by the blow, Thrust looked up to find the ex-Decepticon sauntering towards him with lethal intent, his sword drawn, and looking very much like an incarnation of Unicron himself.

"Screw this!" he shrieked, scrambling to his feet as he was driven by the pure terror of the demonic sight before him, "I'm outta here!" Thrust transformed and, firing his thrusters, disappeared into the distance.

Starscream scowled as he reluctantly returned his sword to his back, where it promptly replaced itself as his left wing. "He's still a coward." He muttered darkly.

Jetfire glanced at him curiously, wondering what in the name of Primus had his fellow Seeker so riled up. "What was that about?"

"Nothing," Starscream growled, "just another double-crosser."

There was a brief moment of awkward silence during which Jetfire contemplated all possible meanings of this statement.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No." The former 'Con hissed, glaring at him, "And don't _ever_ ask me that again."

* * *

Hot Rod felt numb.

He was numb from the pain maliciously racing through his entire body, and numb with the disbelief that the relatively free life he and his brothers had led seemed to have come to an abrupt and startling end.

Dimming his optics, he wondered if there was something he could've done to have changed the outcome. His Spark lurched at the thought as it inevitably led to the reminder of Hot Shot's ability to foresee the future, and, as a result, the fact that his fate was as of yet unknown.

When Soundwave's normally monotone voice took on an unexpectedly harsh note, Hot Rod onlined his optics to stare up at the Decepticon SIC with mild curiosity.

"You did _what_?" he demanded furiously of whoever was on the other end of the comlink; there was a moment during which he listened to whatever half-sparked excuse the unknown party came up with, scowling deeply in the interim. "Megatron will not be pleased, Thrust. You'd better pray to Primus that your 'plan B' can recover what you've lost." The Neutral frowned, wondering what on Cybertron that could possibly mean.

Soundwave terminated the connection before looking down at Hot Rod thoughtfully. He bent over, hooking his fingers around a chink in the Neutral's shoulder plate, and painfully yanked him to his feet. Hot Rod let out a sharp exclamation of surprise mixed with agony as the quick motion sent pain coursing through his sensor nodes anew.

A pair of simple cuffs, meant only to bind a bot's limbs, was slapped onto his wrists.

"What, budget doesn't allow for stasis cuffs?" he joked sarcastically, feeling slightly cheated as he longed for something that would dull his pain.

"Using stasis cuffs in your condition would likely take you offline permanently." Soundwave informed him, his voice reverting back to its boring drone.

_All the more reason to feel cheated, _Hot Rod thought bitterly. Being offline had to be better than this, coupled with whatever was waiting for him at Decepticon HQ.

Knowing it was illogical to expect the Neutral to be able to walk in his broken state, Soundwave slung him over his shoulder as gently as was necessary to avoid inflicting further harm; this didn't stop another gasp of pain, however.

Hot Rod dimmed his optics, resigned to his fate. He tried not to think about how he had failed Hot Spot and even, perhaps, Hot Shot. For the first time since he could remember, Hot Rod felt the need to pray...

_Primus, if you're listening, please help us..._

* * *

Hot Spot woke slowly, his systems sluggish to respond to the prompts being sent out by his central processor to confirm they were in working condition. When his optics finally onlined, he found himself staring at a broken pair of stasis cuffs cast carelessly onto the ground. He frowned at them, wondering if he had seen them lying around before.

"Hey, kid, you all right?"

He turned his head slowly at the sound of the voice (thanking Primus that it wasn't Thrust's) and sighed in relief as he spotted the red emblem embossed on the grey mech's chest plate.

"I—I think so." Hot Spot groaned as he slowly sat up, the effects of the shock that had coursed through him slowly wearing off. He studied the Seeker more closely, taking in the sight of the red visor and face plate, as well as the colour scheme. "You're Jetfire, aren't you?" he asked knowingly.

The SIC nodded, then jerked a thumb in the direction of a red and white mech Hot Spot hadn't formerly noticed. "And that's Screamer over there."

"Screamer" growled, "My name is _Starscream_, frag you, I don't see how difficult that is to pronounce!"

Jetfire chuckled briefly before returning to the matter at hand.

"It's Hot Spot, right?" He inquired. Hot Spot nodded. "All right then, Spot, you and your brothers have a three-way Spark bond, correct?"

"That's right."

"Do you think you can tell us which way to your brothers, then?"

Without hesitating, Hot Spot whipped around and pointed. "You'll find Hot Shot that way. He's either unconscious or stasis-locked, I'm not sure which."

"And Hot Rod?" Jetfire asked, and decided he didn't like the way Hot Spot's worry seemed to be escalating into full-blown anxiety.

The youngest of the Brothers pointed in the opposite direction this time, "He's somewhere that way, but..." Hot Spot hesitated momentarily as he double-checked the information he was getting from their link, "he's on the move, getting farther away."

"Not by choice, no doubt." Starscream remarked.

Jetfire frowned thoughtfully beneath his faceplate as he considered their next course of action. "Damn, maybe I should've brought Jetstorm after all." He mumbled, referring to his more carefree twin, and First Lieutenant of the Seeker Squadron. He sighed as he straightened up and addressed both of his companions.

"All right, here's what we're gonna do. Starscream, you're going after Hot Shot. I'll take Hot Spot with me to help pinpoint Hot Rod's location and hopefully get him out of whatever mess he's in." Jetfire paused, fixing the former 'Con in as serious an expression as he could manage without visible facial features (which really just looked like every other expression.) "Do you think you can handle this without back up?"

Starscream didn't even hesitate.

"Consider it done."

* * *

Thrust grumbled to himself the entire way back to base camp, located conveniently in the Nox Pass. He transformed and landed, marching past the Decepticon underling sent out to greet him without so much as a second glance. He stormed straight towards the equipment crates, locating one in particular before roughly shoving aside the lid and rummaging through its contents. He removed a handheld detonator from it a moment later and eyed it contemplatively, wondering about the wisdom of this plan.

However, his thoughts quickly turned to Soundwave's parting remark to him, and he scoffed derisively, "Who does that pompous, uncharismatic fool think he is? Of _course_ this is going to work..." He moved his thumb over the taunting red button, hesitating one last time. He muttered quietly to himself, as though grasping for resolve; "It doesn't matter if it's experimental."

He pushed the button.

* * *

Buried beneath the stones of the three preset locations were a series of devices that, once activated, were supposed to trap anyone previously tagged by a transwarp detonator in a tiny pocket of transwarp space until a second set of devices were used to retrieve them from it.

If they worked, they would snatch the three Brothers from this plane of existence, landing them irrevocably in Decepticon hands and violently tipping the balance of power in Megatron's favour.

However, unbeknownst to Thrust, there had been a wiring issue during the creation of these devices that caused undue stress to the rest of their vital systems which, without some kind of release outlet, would cause them to explode.

It was an outlet they didn't have.

* * *

The ground erupted beneath Jetfire's feet and he immediately took to the skies. Hot Spot clung to the Seeker for dear life, with some delusional part of his processor idly wondering if it was the end of the world as the Valley floor began to shake itself apart.

Several columns of flame shot upwards in quick succession. The unburdened Starscream barely flew out of their paths in time to avoid being incinerated and he winced as the close proximity scorched the surface of his armour, leaving it smoking black rather than his favoured red and white.

Jetfire wasn't so lucky.

One of the pillars exploded into existence directly beneath him and the encumbered Seeker instinctively knew he would never be able to get out of the way in time...the column of fire was already upon them.

The pillar split down the middle as though cut by a knife, and spread out to either side of the stunned SIC, leaving him completely unharmed by the flame.

Dumbfounded, Jetfire glanced over his shoulder at the young mech he was carrying on his back to find an expression of utter concentration contorting the features of his faceplate. Seeing his curious glance, Hot Spot simply muttered; "Don't ask, just fragging move."

This statement was sufficient enough to pull him from his near-death-induced-daze, and Jetfire silently complied with the suggestion.

In the distance, or more specifically, in the directions of which Hot Spot had pointed out the locations of his brothers, dozens of columns of fire lit the night.

Hot Spot frowned to himself as he felt a pull beneath Cybertron's crust that he had not realized existed in this area.

The ground below them heaved and split open, pouring forth a once-dormant river of molten metal and rock that had been awakened by the violent detonations.

How could he not have sensed that this entire area was volcanic?

* * *

Soundwave silently cursed Thrust's foolishness as one of the explosions detonated closer to him than he would've liked.

"Are you trying to get us all killed, Thrust?" Soundwave demanded stoically over the comlink, and perhaps this time it was the lack of all emotion that terrified the Decepticon Aerial Commander to no end.

"I didn't—I mean—it wasn't supposed to do that!" the hysterical Seeker blurted out, the note of panic in his voice rising to unimaginable heights.

Soundwave didn't have time to snap off an angry retort as tremors shook the ground beneath his feet, splitting it wide open and creating a drop-off into a pit of magma.

Hot Rod silently mused he might get his wish to be offlined after all.

The Decepticon SIC scowled as he considered their predicament; he was cut off from his only escape route and, unlike Thrust, didn't possess flight capabilities.

Soundwave glanced around the terrain, searching for anything he might be able to use to get across; his gaze landed on a miraculously upright stone column on the other side of the gap, and he didn't hesitate to lift his blaster and shoot its base at just the right angle to cause it to topple over. Its tip landed with a resounding crash on his end, effectively creating a bridge that spanned the length of the chasm.

Without hesitation, Soundwave dashed across and was soon making his way along the remaining two hundred hics of chaotically shifting terrain.

* * *

Thrust hadn't been aware that the Nox Valley was sitting directly over top of a series of magma flows that had been dormant since long before the Schism. If he had known, he would've reconsidered using an untested and potentially unstable device that, if detonated, would release enough transwarp radiation to destabilize the region and begin anew the volcanic activity.

As it was, the magma began to pour forth without mercy, threatening to completely overrun the Valley as it melted all form of matter that found itself unfortunately located in its path. Smoke rose from every mechanometer of the region, giving the impression from both above and below that a thousand fires were raging.

And so Hot Shot awoke to the sight of Megatron's looming figure...

And all around him, the Valley was burning.

* * *

**I have to admit, I had fun writing this chapter because I despise Thrust, so now he gets to be the idiot who screws everything up! Sorry to leave you on such a cliff hanger; please R&R! PS: I'm no good at comic relief (while keeping it serious) or fight scenes, so any advice in those two departments is welcome. I hope to have the next chapter up in a week or two. EEP! Only two chapters left to do and then I can move onto the Betrayal! (If you don't know what I'm talking about, check out my profile)**

**See yah!**


	5. Chapter 5

**PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! I'm sorry it took so long to get this one up when I said a week or two, but, as you can see, it ended up being a lot longer than I expected. This is my longest chapter EVER! PS: Sorry if its lame or corny or just downright, well, lame, in some places. I haven't been getting a lot of feedback about my writing style and sometimes I come up with really lame escapes because I suck at tactics.**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

_**Chapter Five: Hand of the Saviour**_

Jetfire flew over the terrain, with Hot Spot clinging to his back and looking down at the spreading magma with a mix of terror and awe. The presence of fire, quite literally his element, tugged teasingly at his Spark and he momentarily understood why his Brothers called him a pyromaniac.

"Hey kid, are we almost there?"

The Seeker's voice pulled him from his wonderings, and Hot Spot reached out with the bonds of his Spark, searching for Hot Rod. He felt the familiar pull, stronger than it had been since they were separated, and eagerly pointed down at an indiscernable spot on the ground, obscured by all the smoke.

"There!" he exclaimed.

"All right, hang on kid, this is gonna be a bumpy ride!" Jetfire banked hard to the left, before dipping into a nose-dive and spiralling downwards to the point Hot Spot had indicated. Despite Hot Spot's best attempts to deflect and suppress the eruptions he felt bubbling beneath Cybertron's surface, Jetfire found himself swerving chaotically to avoid being melted into slag.

The searing heat prevented him from locating Hot Rod and Soundwave via thermal imaging, and every other sensor unit was too frazzled by the extreme temperature to be of much use. All Jetfire had to guide him to Hot Rod's location was Hot Spot.

"Right! Fly right!" the younger mech suddenly cried out. There was no time to argue as Jetfire banked hard to the right, nearly spinning a 180 as he simultaneously tried to avoid another jet of magma as well as follow the directions Hot Spot was giving him. "Dive!"

This time, Jetfire did hesitate.

"What?"

Immediately frustrated and impatient (as seemed a typical trait of the Brothers) Hot Spot reached back and yanked hard on Jetfire's tail fin, eliciting a yelp of pain before they suddenly started plummeting.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?" Jetfire hollered, hastily attempting to right himself as the inherent fear of free-falling, programmed in all Seekers, threatened to freeze up his systems. Hot Spot hardly seemed to notice his protest as he carefully watched the ground below draw violently closer.

Jetfire was absolutely certain they were going to crashland in a pit of bubbling magma, meeting their painful demises, when Hot Spot suddenly let go and, (Jetfire could hardly believe his audacity) _kicked_ down on the back half of his alt-mode, causing the Seeker to suddenly be righted.

The SIC flew lazily for a moment, stunned by the events that had just transpired. After it fully registered with him what the youngling had done, he felt his rarely exciteable temper heat up his motherboard.

"If you EVER—"

"There they are!" Hot Spot's sudden exlcamation forced Jetfire to delay his lecture as he immediately searched out the point his passenger was indicating and, to hardly any surprise, found Soundwave navigating the terrain with an obviously incapacitated Hot Rod slung over his shoulder.

Jetfire knew this was going to be an issue, as he couldn't attack Soundwave directly without risking harm to the Brother.

"Hey, Spot, you got any ideas?"

Hot Spot was silent a moment as he peered anxiously down at the 'Con and his captured brother, his mind racing as he tried to figure out exactly what could be done. The answer came to him a moment later as he felt a violent tug at his Spark, originating from just below the still-solid-ground that the Decepticon SIC was standing on.

He grimaced.

"Just one...and you're not going to like it."

* * *

_A thousand fires burned, marking the ash-filled ending of their days...from the smoke glared a harsh, violet face and he could not look into its malevolent eyes without hearing the devastating screams and being overwhelmed with the pain that tore his mind and body to pieces..._

Hot Shot struggled to his feet, trying to force back the visions that had conveniently decided to subject him to their onslaught.

In hindsight, he should've stayed down and pretended to still be unconscious.

Megatron reacted instantaneously, spinning around and grabbing the disoriented Hot Shot by the throat. Before the Neutral was even fully aware of what was happening, he felt his feet leave the ground, only to cry out in pain a moment later as he was suddenly slammed onto his back.

The ground buckled beneath the force as Hot Shot's systems rebooted in protest. He struggled beneath the weight of the Decepticon Commander, but he was too firmly pinned and too badly wounded to offer even the barest mote of resistance. Recognizing its uselessness, he ceased his feeble struggling and glared up at his captor defiantly.

Megatron chuckled darkly, silently applauding the Brother's fearlessness in the face of certain doom.

"Well, aren't we a spirited one?" he remarked, and then frowned, seemingly in disappointment. "But I was honestly expecting more of a fight from you."

"You want a fight?" he spat, "Then let me up and I'll give you one!" Hot Shot wasn't sure what he had been hoping to gain from his irrational, and somewhat reckless, demand; but it certainly had not been Megatron's compliance.

Describing him as "stunned" when the Decepticon General suddenly straightened, allowing him unhindered freedom of movement, would be an extreme understatement. For a moment, his thought processes stopped altogether as his logic core screamed that releasing him was something Megatron would simply never do.

Still, it took only a moment for Hot Shot to snap out of the daze and scramble to his feet, eyeing Megatron suspiciously; the smirk at the edges of the 'Con's mouthplates clearly indicated that Megatron had his reasons for submitting to the demand.

They were reasons that were revealed a moment later, when the white and purple mech withdrew a long, cruel looking sword. Its edges gleamed a violent red, indicating the presence of battle-grade energon. Not for the first time, Hot Shot wished he had his older brother's energy-absorbing abilities. Pit, he'd even settle for Hot Spot's powers; anything besides the useless ability of foresight that caused him to lock up in the middle of a battle and had nearly gotten him killed on several dozen occasions because of it.

"I'll allow you a moment to arm yourself, boy, and then we'll see exactly what kind of power you've been hiding all this time." Megatron's optics glinted maliciously with the thought of battle...and the untold power this youngling might yet hold.

_Oh frag._ Hot Shot thought, realizing exactly how much of a predicament he had gotten himself into as he proceeded to retrieve a red cylinder from his wrist compartment. A depression of a button later revealed its extended form to be that of a quarterstaff. Hot Rod's voice echoed in his processor from earlier days of his youth, when Hot Spot had been hardly more than a sparkling.

"_Seeing the future is perhaps the most coveted gift of Primus. This is why no one must ever know about it, for if they do, they will only see you as a tool that they will stop at nothing to obtain."_

"You picked the wrong bot, Megatron," Hot Shot began as he and the Decepticon General slowly circled each other, weapons at the ready, "Unlike my brothers, I don't have any powers."

"_Lie if you must, Hot Shot. It is better to let your enemies—and even those you would call friends—believe you are powerless than to provide them with a reason to try and control you."_

Megatron merely smirked at his words, "Oh, I beg to differ, Hot Shot. You may have been able to keep your precious ability a secret from my men throughout the ages I've sent them to watch you and your brothers, but you will not be able to keep it from me." If it was possible, Megatron's malevolent smirk grew wider. "You see, Hot Shot, without your brothers to cover your back, you'll have no choice but to use your powers to save your own hide."

Hot Shot reflected that his statement was partly true, but he honestly doubted that his powers would do him any good against the merciless warlord before him.

"I guess we'll see." He muttered to himself and, as though they were both cued by some latent instinct, the two mechs dashed forward simultaneously and the ringing of clashing metal soon joined the chaotic din of the valley that was crumbling around them.

* * *

Soundwave paused as the ground beneath him forsook its solidity, trembling violently with the first indications that another eruption was imminent. In hindsight, the pause likely saved his life.

The ground before him exploded in a shower of superheated rock and magma as yet another column of fire lurched upwards in a desperate attempt to be free of Cybertron's gravity and join the stars above. Unlike the previous eruptions, however, this one did not simply give up and fall back into itself in a clear sign of surrender. Instead, it did something that defied all laws of physics.

With a deft twist, the column turned and slammed full-force into the the very ground it had just vacated.

The ensuing shockwave caused the ground to buckle and heave, knocking the Decepticon SIC from his feet.

Hot Rod bit back a cry of pain as he hit the ground hard. He felt a faint twinge in his Spark and the pain was momentarily pushed to the back of his mind as he heard Hot Spot's voice.

_[Sorry about that, Bro.]_

Hot Rod took a moment to search out his brother's now-conscious Spark to ensure he was not hallucinating, _[Spot? How—?]_

_[Long story and no time to explain; we'll talk later. Oh, and keep your Primus-damn head down.]_

Hot Rod had no time to ponder exactly what his little brother was up to as yet another pillar of fire exploded far to the right of both him and his captor, only to follow the path of the first and crash back down with lethal force that set the ground trembling more violently than before.

Soundwave struggled to his feet, knowing that something else beyond Thrust's incompetence was now hindering his retreat; and he was fairly certain he knew what it was.

* * *

"You're right; I REALLY DON'T LIKE THIS IDEA!" Jetfire hollered to his passenger, understanbly apprehensive about the youngling's somewhat insane plot.

"Just shut up and do it." Hot Spot hissed irritably. His processor was pounding due to the amount of concentration required to manipulate the eruptions as well as suppress the far more lethal ones that would likely wipe anyone within a four hic radius from existence.

_I think I almost know what Hot Shot feels like when he has those extremely vivid visions._ Hot Spot gave a mental groan. He was going to feel this one for orbital cycles.

Giving a mental gulp, Jetfire focused his attention on the blue speck that was Soundwave amid the red of molten rock and magma. "All right kid; let's do this before I lose my nerve."

With that, Jetfire fired up his thrusters and rocketed off at full speed.

"HEY SOUNDWAVE!"

The Decepticon SIC swung around to face the oncoming Autobot, somewhat startled by the direct, foolhardy approach. He brought his blaster to bear and fired.

Jetfire barrel-rolled out of the way. Feeling Hot Spot's weight suddenly leave him as the youngling released while he was upside down.

Spinning in the air, Hot Spot landed in a crouch and hit the ground running, twin red swords replacing his hands as he charged.

Soundwave immediately lowered his blaster and fired again.

Hot Spot dodged out of the way, and a wall of fire erupted between them, obscuring the young Neutral from sight.

When it collapsed back into itself, Hot Spot was nowhere to be seen.

That was when Jetfire decided to remind the 'Con of his presence, letting loose a torrent of weapons fire as he descended rapidly from above.

Soundwave skittered backwards and out of the way, barely keeping his balance as the ground rumbled discontentedly.

Jetfire pulled up and transformed on the fly, still firing everything he had and putting the 'Con more and more on the defensive.

Meanwhile, Hot Spot moved closer and closer to Hot Rod, his progress across the terrain hidden by the carefully timed eruptions as he used a combination of smoke and fire to obscure the readings made by any sensor aimed in his direction. All the while, he felt a keen sense of apprehension as the strain on the ground beneath his feet continued to grow. It was only a matter of time before his grip on the area slipped, and the lethal eruption he had been suppressing broke free of his influence and destroyed them all.

Trying to put off that inevitable outcome for as long as he could, Hot Spot relieved the pressure from smaller areas, allowing towers of lava to leap upwards unhindered.

But he knew it would never be enough, and his Spark and processor both ached with the constant strain it was putting him under.

By the time Hot Spot reached his brother, his central cortex had already received a warning indicating his processor was in immediate danger of crashing.

_Just a little longer,_ he thought desperately; _please, Primus, give me the strength I need to hold on just a little longer._

"Spot..." Hot Rod's voice was barely above a whisper, and Hot Spot looked down to find his brother's optics were dangerously dim, a clear indication of imminent stasis-lock...or worse.

Hot Spot crouched beside his brother, giving a slight smile, "You look like slag, bro."

"You're not looking too good either." Hot Rod pointed out.

Hot Spot chuckled briefly before looking up and viewing the battle still waging between the two SICs.

At some point in the battle, Jetfire's blaster had overheated and jammed, allowing Soundwave to return fire before his own weapon suffered the same fate; now the two were locked in brutal, melee combat, with Soundwave's twin shortswords prodding fiercely at Jetfire's defences, trying to create an opening in the event that they could not find one.

Jetfire, never having been particularly good at close combat, was hard pressed to keep bringing his single longsword into the path of the arcing weapons. Every time he blocked one, he barely managed to remanoeuvre his sword in time to block the attack from the second one.

Swords had certainly never been his first weapon of choice. Pit, he even preferred hand-to-hand combat over this.

Hot Spot mentally readied himself, knowing it was time to act.

"Here goes nothing..."

* * *

Within the first five kliks of the battle, Hot Shot knew he was never going to win.

Megatron swung his sword in a devastating downward arc. The vibration that tremoured through Hot Shot's quarterstaff as he brought it up to block was enough to nearly cause him to lose his grip on the weapon, as well as buckle his knee joints.

With tremendous effort, Hot Shot managed to push Megatron back just enough to get himself out from under the deadly blade, but Megatron was upon him again in a matter of nano-kliks, executing a series of vicious swipes that Hot Shot found himself struggling to keep up with. Every moment that he spent in battle, his already-damaged condition steadily degraded, causing many formerly yellow level alerts to reassert themselves as red.

Under normal conditions, Hot Shot would've had speed to his advantage, and at least would've been able to scramble out of range of most of Megatron's attacks. As it was though, the fans in his vents whirred strenuously, trying to cool off his rapidly heating systems and keep him from an undesirable overload that would likely lead to stasis-lock.

"What's a matter, boy? Getting tired?" Megatron sneered at him as their weapons locked together once more.

Hot Shot's response was a mere grunt as he exerted all his strength to force Megatron back a second time.

This time, however, the two did not immediately clash again; instead, they stood studying each other across the smoky distance, slowly beginning to circle. Hot Shot was silently grateful for the brief respite; it allowed his coolant systems more time to bring his internal mechanisms back down to a tolerable temperature. His body was screaming profanities at him with every step he took; he knew he couldn't last much longer.

Megatron scowled as he came to the same conclusion. "Still determined to cling your claim of being without power, boy?" he demanded. Hot Shot could tell it was pissing Megatron off that he had yet to use any kind of unique ability.

"Don't have any." He repeated for what was certainly the umpteenth time.

Megatron's scowl darkened further, "Then it's time to end this."

Hot Shot saw Megatron charge towards him an instant before it actually happened.

With the kind of reaction time only capable when an event is predicted in advance, Hot Shot deflected Megatron's sword before it was even halfway through its swing. Without hesitation, Hot Shot spun his quarterstaff and lashed out with all the might he possessed.

Megatron slid backwards, his head turned slightly to the side where Hot Shot had struck him. Slowly, he turned to smirk at the Neutral.

"It seems you've been holding out on me." Megatron remarked, the battle lust coming into his previously disappointed optics again.

Hot Shot was hardly paying attention to the words, too intently focused was he on the phantom copy of Megatron that had suddenly materialized before his optics, allowing him to see Megatron's movements a moment before he made them. At first, it was disconcerting, as it created a strange double-image that made it difficult to focus on either one; but, after a few moments of allowing his processor to adjust to the strange sight it was receiving, (and attempt fruitlessly to correct a problem with his optical sensors that did not exist) Hot Shot quickly found that if he simply regarded the two images as a whole, it was far less unnerving.

Hot Shot wondered why this had never happened to him before; most certainly it was an extension of his power, so why was it only manifesting now?

He found himself recalling Megatron's earlier words.

"_Without your brothers to cover your back, you'll have no choice but to use your powers to save your own hide."_

_Who would've ever guessed the aft was right?_ Hot Shot mused, but any other musings were silenced as the battle resumed with a new ferocity from the Decepticon General that had previously been subdued.

At first, Hot Shot's hopes briefly soared as he parried several more attacks and managed to land a few of his own; but as the battle continued to wear on, he found that even seeing Megatron's attacks before he made them meant nothing if his systems were too sluggish to respond quickly enough.

In a matter of kliks, immediately following a sword feint that preceded a round-house kick, Hot Shot found himself unarmed and pinned to the ground, a blade tip placed on his chest, hovering over his Spark Chamber.

Megatron smirked triumphantly but, while impressed by the young Neutral's uncanny display of skill, could not help but feel disappointed as he concluded Hot Shot truly possessed no power whatsoever.

"It's over boy."

* * *

Jetfire grunted in exertion as he hurriedly deflected a swipe at his momentarily unprotected flank. He was struggling to keep his defences together, as they were slowly becoming unravelled beneath Soundwave's merciless onslaught.

_Hurry, Spot._ Jetfire begged silently, it was only a matter of time before he made a fatal mistake.

At that moment, as though responding to his unvoiced plea, the ground tremoured violently beneath their feet, causing both mechs to cease their assaults on the other and focus on keeping their balance instead.

Jetfire quickly took to the air, transforming into his alt-mode, and barrel-rolled to the right nano-kliks before a jet of searing magma exploded into being. Without hesitating, Jetfire arced around the pillar of fire, flying straight towards the place where Hot Spot and his brother would be waiting for him. Behind him, Soundwave leapt from the path of the fiery column as it slammed through Cybertron's crust in an attempt to slag him while simultaneously covering the Autobot's retreat.

Hot Spot watched anxiously as Jetfire flew towards them; he was supporting Hot Rod on his shoulder and wondering if he would be able to hoist his brother onto the Seeker's back.

Sensing his apprehension, Hot Rod sent a wave of reassurance to his little brother. _[Just get ready to jump.]_ he advised him.

Hot Spot nodded, bracing his knee joints as Jetfire caught sight of them amid the smoke and accelerated.

Jetfire flew closer, transforming mid-flight, hand extended...

And Hot Spot jumped.

Jetfire grunted beneath the sudden weight as Hot Spot latched on, thinking he _definitely_ should've brought Jetstorm along.

After a moment though, he managed to balance the awkward weight and begin accelerating back the way they had originally come.

Hot Spot groaned as a sharp pain stabbed at his processor. "Jetfire," he began, "you've got about a klik and a half before this entire area suffers many, _severe_ simultaneous eruptions."

Jetfire's boosters screamed in protest as he pushed them to the max.

He'd had enough of playing with fire today.

Soundwave followed the Autobot with his optics the whole time, his calculating mind quickly coming up with thousands of scenarios of the events that would likely occur should he attempt to pursue.

He didn't like his odds.

At that moment, the ground all around him began to buckle and heave, with dozens of eruptions suddenly taking place to such a point that it seemed like Cybertron was shaking itself apart.

He was trapped.

Quickly, he activated a unique subroutine in his Spark Chamber, simultaneously deploying Laserbeak as he transferred his very Spark to Ravage. Ravage's cassette ejected, and Laserbeak caught it in his talons. Soundwave's now lifeless body dropped to the ground as Laserbeak soared upwards and out of sight, nano-kliks before everything within a four hic radius erupted in a raging column of fire...

* * *

It was only Starscream's superior reflexes, honed by millennia of battle, that kept him from being melted down to slag as he continued to close in on Hot Shot's location. He might've overshot it completely, if it hadn't been for the glint of flashing metal that miraculous reached him through the thick curtains of smoke. He angled downward, diving through the smoke.

He cleared it at break-neck speed, barely having time to register the sight of the familiar purple and grey armoured mech.

Megatron.

* * *

Hot Shot pulled himself to his feet, half-expecting to be knocked back down; but Megatron allowed him to stand, seeming to believe it would take no effort to restrain him if he decided to attempt to continue the battle.

It was then Hot Shot realized Megatron had been toying with him the entire time.

"You know you can't win." Megatron stated bluntly, "You might as well just submit."

Hot Shot gritted his denta, seeing nothing he could do.

_Well, Primus? _He silently screamed, _where's the salvation you showed me?_

And then it came.

Hot Shot barely concealed his surprise at the sight of the Seeker that had suddenly plummeted down through the smoke, aiming right for them, the roar of his engines hidden beneath the din of the eruptions and shifting terrain.

Starscream transformed mid-flight, his Spark screaming that he take this opportunity of vengeance, regardless of the consequences that might follow. His gaze was narrowed firmly, seeing nothing but the Decepticon General; but something nagged at his thoughts, some urgent sense that cried out for him to do one simple thing.

_Look._

He tore his gaze away, looking past Megatron to the yellow and red mech that stood there. He hesitated, uncertain as he struggled to come to a decision. _Megatron or the mission?_

In one impulsive moment, he made up his mind.

Starscream swooped down, hand extended.

Leaping upwards, Hot Shot reached out, and took hold before Megatron could even comprehend what was happening.

It took Megatron only a moment to recognize the Seeker that had already snatched his would-be prisoner from reach.

"STARSCREAM!"

Hot Shot smirked tiredly at the Decepticon General's display of rage, his processor shutting down due to the strain of his injuries.

The last thing Hot Shot saw was the blazing red emblem of his rescuer before darkness claimed him.

* * *

**I know the ending was lame, I'm sorry! I've still got one more chapter though it should be relatively short, no idea when I'll post it though. Please R&R! I want to make my writing better, so I need all the advice my viewers can give me, thanks!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Yay! The final chapter...I actually finished something!**

**Oh, and thank you to Spiritimus Prime for reviewing on all my chapters in just one day.**

_**Chapter Six: The Path Foretold**_

_It was dark, to the point of being suffocating, like a hand wrapped around his throat and squeezing, crushing the vital circuitry and fluid lines beneath. He reached up and tried to pry it off, desperate to satisfy the thousands of warnings screaming through his processor. It gripped tighter and a burning pain sunk deep into his chest plating._

_After a few agonizing moments, the grip released him, and light returned to his world. He lay crumpled beside two figures also writhing in pain; one was smaller...younger. The other: bigger...older._

_Brothers._

_Their chest plates were seared with a harsh, angular, burning face...a face of which glared at the world before it as its red-hot surface cooled to violet._

_Looking down, he found the same mark burned into his own chassis...and then darkness descended again, a deep voice rumbling out from it._

"_Choose."_

* * *

Hot Shot woke slowly, his processor struggling to reboot. When his optics came online, he had to wait a moment as they adjusted their focus, bringing the blurry image being relayed into sharp clarity.

He was in a medbay.

"Nice of you to join us, Shot."

Hot Shot sat up slowly, turning his head in the direction of the voice to find Hot Rod grinning broadly at him. He couldn't help but grin back as he took in his surroundings; mainly the sight of white walls with the Autobot insignia embossed proudly upon their surfaces.

"I guess this means we made it?" he asked, hardly daring to believe it. His most recent vision still burned brightly in the back of his mind.

"Well, _duh_."

Hot Shot glanced over to find Hot Spot standing in the doorway, smirking mischievously.

"Hey! Why aren't _you_ in a med-berth?" he demanded, huffing at the unfairness as Hot Spot skipped lightly towards them.

"Because _I_ didn't get my aft kicked."

"I could always kick it for you, if you'd like." Hot Shot threatened, grinning.

Hot Spot's smirk grew wider; "You can't, you're berth-ridden, doctor's orders."

"Doctor's orders my aft!" Hot Shot exclaimed, sitting up, ignoring his pain.

Something whipped by an inch from his face, clanging loudly into the wall. He looked up, optics wide, to find a wrench deeply imbedded in the now-dented wall plating. Slowly, he turned to face the glowering, old, greenish-yellow mech that stood by a previously closed door, which, now open, revealed an office.

"KEEP YOUR AFT IN THAT BERTH OR THE NEXT TIME IT'S YOUR HEAD!"

Hot Shot hurried to comply, holding up his hands to placate the incensed medic as he lied back down.

"Okay, okay, I'm in the berth!"

Seeming satisfied, at least for the moment, the medic turned and stalked back into his office, the door hissing shut behind him.

Hot Shot regarded his brothers, his expression terrified. "That was a _doctor_?"

"Yeah," Hot Rod jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate a second dent in the wall that was left from his own first experience with the wrench-throwing medic, "Ratchet the Hatchet."

The door to the medbay slid open, drawing their attention upwards and to the sight of the blue and red mech that had walked in.

All three of the brothers recognized him on sight; there wasn't a Transformer alive on all of Cybertron that wouldn't know Optimus Prime when they saw him.

Hot Shot didn't have to look to know Hot Rod's posture had gone rigid, his optics likely narrowing into a glare at the sight before them. The atmosphere in the room had gone from comfortable and familiar to awkward and foreign.

"I'm Optimus Prime," he began, being the first to break the silence, "but, from the looks on your faces, I guess you already knew that."

"Who wouldn't?" Hot Rod replied coldly. Hot Shot felt the urge to reach over and smack his older brother upside the head; instead, he settled for sending a wave of calm and reassurance to his brother, hoping it would make him less...hostile.

Optimus took note of the underlining resentment in the response, and silently cautioned himself to tread lightly with this one.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"Fine." Hot Rod replied, holding optic-contact defiantly. He didn't deign to elaborate.

Hot Shot shifted uneasily and prodded Hot Rod's Spark gently, begging him to remove the hostile tone from his words. It wasn't exactly polite to treat their rescuers like enemies; he felt Hot Spot doing the same.

Hot Rod shot both of them an irritated glare before turning his gaze back on the Autobot Supreme Commander and narrowing it.

"I already know what you're going to ask, and the answer's _no._"

Hot Shot visibly winced at the savage response, giving a mental _uh-oh_. He stole a quick glance at the Prime, hoping he wasn't taking offence. He didn't seem to be; in fact, he seemed to be handling Hot Rod's hostility and distrust quite patiently. It was almost as though he had been...expecting it.

Optimus sighed. "Hot Rod, if not for Jetfire and Starscream, the three of you would be in a Decepticon prison cell right now. How long do you think you can run before Megatron finally gets his hands on you?"

"Long enough." Hot Rod growled.

"Is that really the kind of life you _want_, Hot Rod?"

"It's better than being used."

"You wouldn't be used." Optimus insisted. Hot Rod glowered at him.

"Then what would _you_ call it?"

For a moment, Optimus didn't reply, and when he finally did begin to speak, he chose each word carefully. "Hot Rod, if you and your brothers became Autobots, you would be obligated to follow my orders and those of my senior officers; but I would _never_ treat you and your brothers as simple tools to be cast aside at some unforeseen convenience. Powers or not, the three of you are sentient beings whose feelings and thoughts on any matter I would not simply disregard."

Optimus waited a moment, allowing Hot Rod an opportunity to speak that the mech didn't take. Staring at the eldest brother's stubborn expression, Optimus realized this was one mech he wasn't going to be able to get through to. This was one mech that was going to have to learn for himself. He could only pray to Primus that Hot Rod wouldn't drag his brothers down with him, as he had seen so many others do.

"It's your choice," he went on after several more moments of silence, feeling he had to at least warn the mech of the dangers he'd be imposing on all three of them, "if you want to leave, we won't stop you, but I can't guarantee that we'll be able to intervene the next time Megatron finds you...and he _will_ find you, no matter how long it takes."

Hot Shot glanced between his brothers as Optimus turned to leave; Hot Rod's expression was fixed in an unrelenting scowl, while Hot Spot shifted uneasily, his optics boring expectantly into the Prime's back as though waiting, or _hoping_, for him to turn around and offer a convincing argument that even Hot Rod wouldn't be able to deny the logic of.

Hot Shot hadn't missed the flicker of hope that had entered Hot Spot's Spark at the thought of not having to run anymore and, based on the deepening scowl on his face, neither had Hot Rod.

A tingling at the back of Hot Shot's mind preceded a simple word: _"Choose."_

"Wait."

Optimus was startled momentarily, but composed himself before he turned around to meet Hot Shot's optics. Hot Rod shot his younger brother an incredulous look.

_[What in Primus' name are you doing?]_ he demanded angrily.

_[What I should've done before you opened your big fat mouth.]_ Hot Shot snapped back irritably.

Taken aback by the vehemence sent his way, Hot Rod fell silent, his optics fixed on his brother uncertainly.

"I'll join you." Hot Shot told Optimus simply.

"WHAT?" Hot Rod exclaimed disbelievingly. Hot Shot felt a pang of guilt as he sensed his brother's feeling of betrayal; faint and brief, but it had been there none the less. "Hot Shot, what are you thinking? This isn't even our war!"

"Yes it is! If we want to be left in peace, it's a peace we're going to have to fight for." Hot Shot counted to three, calming his rising temper and reminding himself that Hot Rod had been betrayed numerous times; even long before Hot Shot himself had been built. After a moment, he began again slowly. "Hot Rod, I'm tired of standing on the sidelines, watching the fighting and dying and thinking 'I could help stop this' all the while."

Hot Rod and Hot Spot studied their brother for a moment, taking careful note of the unusual gravity of his tone.

Hot Shot met each of their optics in turn, trying to convey to them the necessity and importance of this choice. "Don't you think it's time we stopped running like cowards?"

For a moment, there was only silence; then, needing no further encouragement, Hot Spot took a step toward Optimus, hesitating for only a moment more before he spoke; "I'll join you, too."

Dumbfounded, Hot Rod could only turn to stare at Hot Spot as though he were a stranger that had simply been masquerading as a member of his family...waiting for the right moment to turn around and stab him in the back. Both Hot Shot and Hot Spot felt that terrible sense of treachery gnaw at their Sparks.

After a moment, Hot Rod broke out into an incredulous protest. "You're kidding me! Spot, you're too young to even know what you're getting yourself into!"

Hot Spot drew himself up to his full-height and narrowed his eyes at Hot Rod, matching his older brother's obstinacy and using their Spark bond to convey his determination. "I'm not so young that I can't tell when you're allowing past grudges to affect your judgment."

"Hot Rod," Hot Shot whispered, "trust me." Then, over their Spark bond, he said to both of them; _[I've seen the alternative.]_

Hot Rod sent a sense of helpless frustration over their link and they knew that he felt as though they had backed him into corner; but they could feel how deeply troubling he found Hot Shot's statement and removed themselves from the innermost workings of his Spark, allowing him a moment to come to a private decision.

After a moment in which he collected his opposing thoughts on the matter and allowed them to duke it out until only one side of the argument remained, Hot Rod finally reached out to them again, and they felt his reluctance as he replied.

_[Fine, but we're setting some ground rules.]_

Hot Shot smiled, relieved, sending Hot Rod his gratitude and reassuring him that they had only been trying to make him see reason. _[Name 'em, bro.]_

_[First off, we're not telling them you can see the future.]_

Hot Shot's face fell; and he gaped at Hot Rod. _[WHAT? But that's a major tactical advantage—]_

_[That you can't control in the first place.]_ Hot Rod reminded him sternly, _[Besides, the fewer bots who know, the less likely Megatron is to ever find out. I'd rather not give him further incentive to come after you.]_

_[But—]_

_[Hot Shot, do you really want people suddenly expecting you to predict the outcome of every battle? Your visions are more often erratic than not; it's unreasonable to expect you to be able to predict the Decepticons' every move, which is exactly what everyone will expect you to do!]_

_[We should at least tell Optimus,] _Hot Shot insisted, _[swear him to secrecy or something, he'd understand.]_

_[No, we're _especially_ not telling him.]_

_[Rod, I think I agree with Hot Shot,] _Hot Spot finally interjected, _[at least with the telling Optimus part.]_

_[_No_, and that's _final._]_ Hot Rod informed them, eyeing each of them in turn to communicate exactly how nonnegotiable it was.

The two younger brothers grudgingly agreed, though Hot Shot made sure to send his brother a wave of frustration, annoyance, and strong disapproval to remind Hot Rod exactly how he felt on the matter.

Hot Rod was certain that it wasn't the last he would hear of this argument.

Optimus waited patiently, taking time to study the myriad of expressions that crossed the brothers' faces at various intervals. He could tell they were holding a private discussion, and reminded himself that this likely wasn't an easy decision for any of them. He knew full-well that the Brothers' trust had been abused in the past, not just by Decepticons, but by other Neutrals, and even the occasional Autobot. He couldn't hold it against them if they decided they were better off on their own.

Finally, the three seemed to come to an agreement, and Hot Rod reluctantly met the Prime's optics.

"All right," he began, his expression turning sour as though the words left a bad taste in his mouth, "we'll join you."

Optimus felt a wave of relief (though he made certain not to let it show) and held out a hand to Hot Rod, who took it hesitantly.

"Welcome aboard."

* * *

**[Insert act of fainting here]**

**PS: Chapter One of the Betrayal is now up as well, unless it takes 4-8 hours to post, which I hope it won't. After that, I'll hopefully move onto the Comrades. R&R! It gives me motivation to write more!**


End file.
